


A Weird Way to Say "I Love You"

by PuppiesRainbowsSadism



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Established Relationship, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Past Drug Use, Recreational Drug Use, Shotgunning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-15
Updated: 2019-01-15
Packaged: 2019-10-10 21:11:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17433581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PuppiesRainbowsSadism/pseuds/PuppiesRainbowsSadism
Summary: Duck can't sleep and finds out that Indrid is much less of a disaster when they're both high.





	A Weird Way to Say "I Love You"

**Author's Note:**

> How the hell did I get wrapped up in this ship? Whatever, it feels good to be writing again.
> 
> Unedited

1:43 am

This was the fourth time Duck had woken up tonight -- an impressive feat since he’d gone to bed later than usual too. Since losing Minerva, rest just didn’t come easily to him anymore.

He rolled over, turning his back to the clock, and was only a little surprised to find that Indrid had gotten up at some point. Normally, Duck wouldn’t mind so much, but these past couple of weeks, Indrid had been there most of the time to calm him back into sleep, or to curl up with if he himself was sleeping. But Duck had since come to terms with the fact that Indrid’s sleep schedule made no sense at all and was just generally unpredictable. It was only a matter of time before he simply wasn’t there when Duck woke up. Either that, or he had gotten bored of waiting in bed all night.

That was fine. It was Duck’s day off tomorrow, and he knew he wouldn’t be falling asleep again terribly soon.

He rolled out of bed and slid his slippers on before padding across the cold floor. Immediately, he regretted leaving his soft and warm cocoon of blankets, but too late now. He was already at the doorway.

Indrid wasn’t in the living room, nor was he in the kitchen. In fact, Edgar was still curled up on her perch on the couch and let out a little mrrp of acknowledgement before settling back down.

Duck frowned. Maybe Indrid had left for some reason, but it was still freezing outside. Surely, if he had left, he would have waited until morning. Unless it was an emergency.

He picked up the phone and started to dial Indrid’s number when a silhouette against the kitchen curtains caught his eye.

Duck shuffled as quickly and quietly as he could back to his room, grabbed Beacon, and shuffled back to the kitchen. Couldn’t be too safe. Cracking the door open and peering around the corner, he noticed first that it was oddly foggy. He then saw Indrid sitting on the old stool at the far end of the balcony, face turned toward the sky but eyes still obscured by his glasses, wearing Duck’s old WVSU hoodie and a pair of worn purple sweatpants that had to have belonged to Jane at some point. Duck breathed a sigh of relief and set Beacon, still furled, on the counter before stepping outside.

The cold bit him first, then the smell, then Indrid’s head snapped sideways to look at him.

“Oh, Duck,” he greeted softly with a gentle smile. “I’m sorry, did you have a nightmare again? Or a vision?”

“No, uh, nothin’ like that. You . . . you do realise I’m a federal employee, right?”

Indrid raised his eyebrows in confusion, and Duck glanced pointedly at his right hand, which held a burning joint loosely between two fingers. Realisation dawned on Indrid’s face, but it took the form of sass.

“Are you going to arrest me?” he asked, taking a long drag and blowing it out slowly.

“I don’t have that authority. But I might call Juno.”

That made Indrid laugh -- which, honestly, was Duck’s only goal. “If it bothers you, I’ll put it out.”

Duck closed the door behind him and plopped down on the only other furniture on the balcony: A worn old bench he bought from the park years ago when they were renovating. He scooted as close to Indrid as he could without touching him.

“Nah, you’re good. As long as you share.”

Indrid regarded Duck quietly for a moment, smirk still stuck on his face. “I thought you were a federal employee.”

“If a little weed in my system were enough to get me in trouble, I never would’ve gotten the job in the first place.”

Indrid stared at him a moment longer before handing the joint over wordlessly. Duck took it and, similarly silently, took a hit.

It hit him harder than he remembered from days past, but at least he didn’t cough.

A stiff breeze blew past as Duck handed the joint back. “Fuck,” he muttered, wrapping his arms around himself and scooting a bit closer. “You must be freezing.”

“I'll live.”

Neither of them said anything after that, and the time ticked by in silence -- Indrid staring at the sky, Duck staring at Indrid, and both of them passing the joint back and forth.

Duck couldn’t help but notice that Indrid seemed a lot more relaxed, more focused. He’d apparently brought his sketchpad out with him, but it was on the ground, closed. There wasn’t a single piece of crumpled up paper littered anywhere on the balcony. And from this angle, with Indrid staring straight ahead and upwards, Duck could see that Indrid’s eyes weren’t glazed over, ever shifting, or darting around almost imperceptibly. Odd, but he didn't call it out.

He also noticed that Indrid was drowning in that sweatshirt, but it was unbelievably adorable and domestic and made Duck’s face feel flushed. Or maybe that was the weed.

“Go ahead and ask.”

Indrid’s voice startled him. Duck hadn’t realised he’d spaced out, staring directly at him, but now he noticed that Indrid was side-eyeing him pretty heavily.

Duck shook his head. “I didn’t know you smoked is all.”

“Not often, but yes, I do.”

Duck tried to figure out a way to phrase his next question. Just asking Why? was too direct and wasn’t likely to provide the kind of answer he was looking for. But before he could figure it out, Indrid heaved a sigh and continued.

“One may get used to seeing every possible future at all times. One may even learn to not focus on it or tune it out. But it still gets overwhelming. I don’t know if you noticed, Duck, but I was surprised when you joined me out here, and I haven’t interrupted you or said anything in tandem.”

Duck had noticed. Of course he had, but Indrid had been getting better with following conversations in real time anyway.

“I’m more present than ever right now. And before you ask, yes, I still can see the futures ahead, but it takes a little bit of effort on my part. And I don’t smoke recklessly. I looked beforehand. There’s nothing disastrous and preventable that could happen in Kepler, at least until tomorrow morning.”

“I trust you.” Duck’s head was starting to feel a little fuzzy. He wasn’t entirely sure why he said that, except that it was true and it needed to be said.

Indrid turned to face him, expression unreadable but voice slightly bitter. “Full of surprises, as always. And I’m not just saying that because I’m high.”

Duck clenched his teeth against whatever he was going to say next, because Indrid didn’t look away. He just kept looking and looking at him. Or, supposedly he was. It was hard to tell. And it was really difficult to focus when he was suddenly starting to notice how the light from the streetlamps shined on Indrid’s glasses and got caught up in his silver hair, how being so relaxed made him look this side of young, how his laugh earlier now made him think of wind chimes, but that was probably fanciful thinking. And yeah, it was the weed talking now, but fuck was Indrid pretty.

Indrid held up what remained of the joint. “Do you want to share the rest?”

“I, uh -- I thought that was what we were doing.”

Indrid turned his whole body to face him, then, and Duck almost couldn’t breathe. He was so close, having to rearrange himself to be as unobtrusive as possible and nearly straddling Duck’s thigh in doing so. One hand landed on Duck’s thigh, squeezing playfully.

“That’s not what I mean.”

Indrid took one long, deep hit off the joint and tossed it into the darkness, holding it in until he could arrange Duck as he wanted: Indrid’s free hand cupping his face, pulling him close, coaxing his mouth open with his thumb. He leaned in like he was going for a kiss, and Duck did what he always did. He sat up straight and closed his eyes. But their lips didn’t connect. Instead, Duck felt and tasted the smoke being blown over his tongue.

Oh. Oh, it had been a long time since he’d done this. Still, memory served well, and he inhaled as much as he could, until the smoke stopped coming and his lungs threatened to burst.

As he breathed out, smoke and fog alike clouding the air between them, Duck realised he had a fistful of Indrid's sweatshirt, holding him close.

And Duck figured, well, Indrid was already practically on top of him. They were already a hair’s breadth away. He harnessed his strength to pull Indrid into his lap, pausing just a second to savour his surprised laugh, before pulling him down into an open-mouthed kiss.

Another thing Duck had forgotten about getting high: Everything felt more. Indrid’s long fingers in his hair, the wet slide of their lips, how Indrid was cold cold cold everywhere but no more than the air around them -- he felt all of it so intensely. And when Indrid adjusted so he could grind down efficiently, all of Duck’s senses whited out and zeroed in on that, yes, please, more of that.

“W-wait, Indrid,” he panted.

Indrid, undeterred, kept his mouth occupied on Duck’s neck. “Mhm?”

“We can’t do this out here, come on -- “

“We can if we don’t get caught. And -- “ he froze, staring off to the side for much longer than he normally would have, but Duck knew he was peering into the possible futures. Fleetingly, Duck wondered how many saw them going inside and sleeping the rest of the night, and conversely how many had Duck bending Indrid over the railing. “ -- I can count on one hand how many futures there are in which we are caught red-handed. We are only once interrupted, and not intentionally. Further in, there may be a few awkward situations where someone knows, and you know they know, but that’s it. This is, of course, provided we stay quiet.”  


Slowly, slowly, Indrid slid his hands down Duck’s neck, to his chest, to his stomach. “And, Duck? There were a few futures where you asked that out loud. There is one. It’s wholly up to you.”

“And you,” Duck added quickly.

“And me,” he conceded. “In that case, it is very cold. I’d like to keep as many clothes on as possible.” He slid his way off Duck’s lap, bending at the waist to stay eye-level, fingers snapping the waistband of Duck’s own sweatpants, teasing. “Is this okay?”

He swallowed thickly, head swimming. “Y-yeah. I’ll, uh, try to keep quiet.”

Indrid fell to his knees with a dull crack, seemingly unaffected by pain as he rubbed Duck through his pants and winked. “I trust you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Accompanying art: https://danderlion13.tumblr.com/post/182040668365/how-did-i-get-here-with-this-ship-after-literal


End file.
